


A Tale as Old as Time

by TeatimeDuchess



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Swearing, RusFin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeatimeDuchess/pseuds/TeatimeDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, long long ago, there lived a little blond boy in a small Finnish town. One day, as fate would have it, he met a terrible beast. And lo and behold, they both liked vodka. Go figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is a pretty rare pairing. But I love them dearly, so I decided to write something fluffy and fantastical for them!
> 
> I used elements from both the original Grimm fairytale and the Disney movie (animated) for this story, though there are aspects of it that simply come from my imagination.
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to my beta and literary wife (yes we finally got literary married), LordOfLaMancha. She put up with so much shit from me for this fic. Way more shit than usual. And she doesn't even ship these two (or maybe now she does). So, I am forever grateful to her wonderful, brilliant, tough love help <3 I literally do not know what I'd do without her.
> 
> Also, I apologize for Berwald's mumbling speech pattern.
> 
> Have fun reading this goddamn fic~ It was 24 solid pages in word, and at the advice of my literary wife I have split it into 3 chapters. I have never written anything this long before. FML.
> 
> Translations are at the end of the fic. If I missed any or screwed any of them up, please let me know.

Once upon a time, there lived a prince in a shining manor. And although the prince had everything that he could ever want, he was misguided and temperamental and he only wanted more. One evening, a beggar man came upon his doorstep baring a weather worn sunflower as a gift for the prince in return for food and shelter. But the prince had no need for the sunflower, broken and battered as it was and he sent the beggar man away. Again, the beggar man pleaded. So taken with himself, and so narcissistic was the prince that he decided for a second time that the trade that the beggar offered was unfair. The beggar did not have and could not be anything of use to him, and thus the prince sent him away once more.

It was then that the beggar revealed himself to be a handsome sorcerer, and try as the prince might to redeem himself and offer a place in his manor for the enchanter, the sorcerer cursed the prince to live as a horrid beast. All those who resided in the prince's manor were enchanted as well, and the prince was left to himself, angry and in despair.

Unless he could find someone that truly loved him by the time that the last sunflower petal fell on his 18th birthday, the curse would never be broken and the prince and his servants would be doomed for eternity.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

In a small, quaint town in Finland, just on the Russian border, there lived a boy named Tino. Tino was sweet and kind, and he always helped the other townsfolk with what he could. His dear guardian, Berwald, had brought him up to be polite and kind and to offer aid whenever he could. He was a sweet boy, and sometimes Tino wondered if the townspeople took advantage of that.

When he wasn't helping out the baker or butcher, Tino's nose would be buried in a book, only surfacing to eat sweets. Sometimes he would indulge in the practices of drinking heavily (when they could afford it), and hunting for game with Berwald.

For the most part, Tino lived life without a care in the world, frolicking in the fields and forest surrounding the town and playing with his lively little Maltese, Hanatamago. Berwald laboured throughout the year to carve furniture to sell in the neighbouring towns; they were able to live in comfort in a small cottage on the outskirts of their village. The townsfolk disapproved heavily of Tino's carefree living, and as he passed them in the cobblestone streets he would hear them murmur such things as "That boy has his head in the clouds." and "That's no way for a man to be acting.". Tino found this all quite amusing considering how much time he spent loading up their carts and weeding their lawns and finding their neglected pet cats who had dashed out the door. But he would simply grimace and bite his tongue as he walked by, giving a friendly wave to the fake smiles sent his way.

His favourite of the gossiping questions by far though was "Why isn't he pursuing any of the girls in town?" and all variations of said question.

Truth be told, Tino found no interest in any of the town girls, nor in any of the girls he met while visiting other townships with Berwald. He found them boring and pesky. And besides, none of them liked to drink vodka. It was a shame really.

All they wanted to do was chatter and gossip and do needlework.

All Tino wanted was an adventure!

He could picture himself fighting monsters, befriending beasts, encountering magical beings. The thought brought a smile to his face. He wished to meet someone interesting and exciting, just like in his books. The idea of some grand escapade thrilled him. But alas, everyday was the same; wake up, walk Hanatamago into town for groceries, go to the book store, read, go home to cook food for himself and Berwald, read more, go exploring if he had the time, eat, finish his book, sleep, repeat.

Berwald would leave on day trips every so often, and sometimes Tino would accompany him, but that was the most variation present in their otherwise monotonous lives. Not that his life was bad! Tino really didn't have anything to complain about. He flipped through another fantastical, reread book and sighed. It was just...boring.

Though as fate would have it, life wouldn't be boring for long.

Tino stood at his guardian's side, shivering and bundled up as he handed pieces of furniture to Berwald to load onto the horse drawn cart. " 'll be gone f'r a few days, 'cross the border. 'll bring ya back a gift. What d'ya want?" Berwald secured the last of the hand carved wooden tables and turned to face his charge. Tino looked ecstatic at the mention of a gift, and he only had to think about it for a moment before responding.

"A bottle of Russian vodka! Please." His excited words were accompanied by little clouds of hot breath. Tino buried his face back into his scarf, though his cheeks were still pleasantly rounded from the smile he wore beneath.

Berwald nodded, the smallest of fond smiles tugging at his lips. "Be a good boy."

"I always am." Tino bounced on his toes and tried to straighten up his downcast shoulders. They both hated to be away from one another, but this was a necessity. They had done this a thousand times before.

The man got down on one knee, ruffling the boy's dirty blond hair and pulling him into a quick, wordless hug. He stood again and dusted off the patch of frozen dirt from his pant leg. "There's cabbage, rice, an' hirvenliha in th' cellar." Tino nodded and watched as Berwald tugged his jacket and scarf tighter and mounted the horse. He sauntered over, to be near Berwald for just a little longer. "An' keep warm. There're fire logs in th' back."

The boy patted Hevo's head, still smiling. "You worry too much."

Both of them knew it was true.

Tino watched Hevo carry Berwald off with the routine ache of loneliness weighing heavily on his chest. He remained standing in the chill of impending winter, waving to his guardian until the trees swallowed him whole.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Through the forest Berwald went, down familiar roads and past familiar trees. He figured that he had crossed the Russian border a short while back and was making good time to be able to deliver his goods the following morning. The wind was starting to pick up, snow whipping against his face. He wasn't bothered by it. Berwald whistled to himself to pass the time, and the wind whistled back a tuneless tune through the trees. He really wasn't worried... He shouldn't have to be worried...But even with the trees providing cover, the storm worsened as they went along. Berwald whispered words of encouragement to Hevo as she pushed on.

“Bra häst. Du är så stark. Bra Hevo.”

He hoped that his soothing voice would calm the increasingly jittery mare. But something in the snowstorm spooked her badly. She reared back and tossed Berwald off. The man hit the unforgiving ground and could do nothing but listen to her gallop away, the old wooden cart creaking and screeching behind her.

Distress hit Berwald like a ton of bricks as he took in his current situation. He was cold and blinded by the storm, and without horse or direction. Berwald had no choice but to walk on and try to find shelter for the night. He could only hope that Hevo would find her way home safely. Though the path he had been following was lost to him beneath the whipping snowsquall, Berwald trudged on through the quickly piling snow.

A cave would do, or even a ditch would work for some coverage. Berwald kept himself as alert as he could through the chill that had dulled his senses, and by some stroke of luck he thought he saw shimmering lights in the distance. He squinted his eyes and saw the same flicker of lights. Figuring it would do no harm to chase them at this point, he followed the faint glow and came upon a vast manor behind iron gates. Truly the Gods were looking down upon him. Quickly, he pushed through them and went inside, cutting off the gusting winds with a strong shove of the door. Snow melted off of the bespectacled man, leaving puddled prints on the marble floors. Berwald called out to the owner of the establishment, hoping to minimize the mess he was creating by staying in one spot just inside the doorway.

"Got lost in th' blizzar'."

There was no response, and was hungry, tired and frozen, and there was a tantalizing, savoury smell wafting towards him. Warmth flowed outwards from beyond the foyer, inviting him into the manor with promises of hospitality and shelter. It didn't take long for Berwald to give in to temptation and he slipped off his shoes and walked in, finding a beautiful feast and an unopened bottle of vodka laid out on a dining table. His stomach grumbled, and Berwald called out once more. "If I coul' spend th' night an' have some of yer food, I'd repay ya."

Again, there was no response. Thinking this all awfully strange and not knowing what else to do, Berwald sat down and drank and ate his fill. When he was done, he continued to walk around, trying to find someone that he could talk to. Upstairs he went, down an ornate corridor leading to magnificent rooms. To his right, a door lay cracked open with a crackling fire lit inside. Yet when he peered into the room there was no one there. So warm and inviting was the fire that fatigue overtook Berwald, and he crawled into the warmed bed. Sleep came quickly to him.

When he awoke in the morning, there was coffee and breakfast waiting by his bedside. His clothes had dried overnight, and he could see that the terrible storm outside had died down.

As he went downstairs, readying himself to leave, he called out one last time and hoped that the manor's owner and servants would hear. Thankful for the gracious generosity, Berwald told himself that he would come back to find the master of the house another time to thank him properly.

Berwald walked through the living room towards the front door, taking in the ornamentation and furniture of the now daylit manor. As his eyes wandered, he spotted a glass cabinet filled with hundreds and hundreds of bottles of vodka, the same which he had drank the night before. He remembered his promise to Tino and he couldn't go home empty handed. At least they could share a drink tonight and go about fixing any damages caused to his wagon and goods tomorrow. Surely the master of the house wouldn't miss a single bottle after all that he had been given the night prior, and he could pay back him for it when he returned. Berwald reached for the cabinet handle.

As his fingers brushed the caged glass doors, a beast of a man came calmly walking into the room. Large curled horns and sharp fangs and wild purple eyes graced his features. Berwald froze in his tracks, confusion and nervousness startling him out of his goal. The two men stood there in silence, looking upon one another and sizing the other up. Berwald found it incredibly peculiar that this...being was dressed in the finest of clothing, torn and aged as they might be. The scarf that was wrapped around the beast's neck swayed in a nonexistent breeze, as if it had a life of its own. A shiver ran down the length of Berwald's spine.

The horned being's voice cut through the thick silence. "I gave you food and shelter, and even some of my favourite vodka." His was strangely calm, curious even, yet there was an underlying threat that made Berwald step away, his back pressing to the tall cupboard. The glass shook, the cabinet teetering with the soft force of the impact. The beast's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment. The cupboard settled and he cleared his throat to speak once again.

"You have given me nothing and yet you try to take more from me. More of my vodka nonetheless." The smile that the beast wore was unnerving, and it rendered Berwald speechless.

"A thief should be locked away, да?" The beast caught Berwald's jacket as the man pushed away from the cabinet and tried to flee. The horned creature simply clucked his tongue in disapproval as he dragged Berwald down into the depths of the manor.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

From his perch in the window seat in the kitchen of their little cottage, Tino could hear the pounding of hooves muffled by a thin layer of fresh snow against the dirt road leading to their house. He kept his page using his index finger and peered outside. It had been barely a day and yet Berwald was back? Maybe it was a visitor of some sorts?

Or maybe it was some prince from a far off land that had lost his way and had stumbled upon his humble little cottage by accident! Tino haphazardly set down his book in all of his excitement and ushered Hanatamago off of his lap. It was difficult to see past the overgrown elm grove in front of the window.

Tino rushed out onto the porch, shading his eyes from the glaring sun so he might see a little better. He recognized Hevo's chestnut brown coat glinting in the sunlight. But something was clearly wrong. She was lacking some of the furniture that she had been carting, and she was missing all of her rider. Tino's stomach sank as ran to meet her. He tried to calm the mare as he tried to keep his own head level. For all his effort, it didn't seem to be working for either of them.

"Hevo! What's wrong? Where's Berwald?" Tino felt sick with anxiety as his hands ran over Hevo's glossy mane, working in tandem with his eyes to try and find signs of injury or attack. There was nothing. He glanced back to the cart, battered and lopsided from a cracked axle. His fingers continued to comb through Hevo's coat absentmindedly. The furniture that Berwald had put so much time and attention into making looked worse for wear and was just as beaten up as the cart. Tino had sat and watched his guardian make every single chair leg, sand and plane every table top. His breath caught in his chest and emotions tightened his throat painfully.

Hevo whinnied beside him, and not knowing what is else to do, Tino ran inside to fetch his cloak and gloves, quickly detaching the cart from Hevo and mounting the mare. He pleaded with her to take him to Berwald, and off she went back into the woods with her new rider. Images flashed through Tino's mind of his guardian lying on the forest floor, injured and cold, dead-

Tino shook his head and wiped the threatening tears away with his gloved hands. He had to keep his cool so he could find Berwald.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

When Hevo trotted to a stop in the darkest, densest part of the woods, there was no sign of Berwald. The mare tossed her head back and forth with unease and Tino tried to soothe her with his words. What had happened here for the normally serene mare to act this way? Tino hopped down off of Hevo, into a small buildup of snow. He observed their surroundings with uncertainty. The snow wasn't deep enough that the man could be buried, and any footprints or tracks had been covered by the whiteout conditions.

Tino worried at his lower lip, releasing Hevo's reigns to take a closer look. Nothing on the ground gave hints as to where Berwald had gone, but...he looked a little higher up. There were snapped branches leading away from the main path that he had travelled upon, too high up for any passing animal to have broken. With no other lead than the small disturbance, he carefully lead Hevo through the denser part of the woods.

The walk was slow and winding, though the snow was thinner between the trees. Numerous times, Tino had to stop and look carefully to see where the broken branches led, relying on everything that Berwald had taught him about hunting to find the almost buried path.

Time seemed to lose all sense there in the woods. It felt like they had been searching and trudging through the snow covered thicket and bramble for hours, and the cold had seeped into Tino's bones. He wasn't used to his trusted cloak and gloves betraying him so.

Just as the fatigue and frost were becoming an unbearable weight upon his shoulders, the forest cleared to reveal grand iron gates and a magnificent manor. It was huge, and in all of his life he had never seen such a splendid building. Thrilled by the possibility of Berwald having found shelter in such an intriguing place, Tino quickly regained his will and lead Hevo through the already open gate, tying her out of harm's way in the interior yard.

“I'll be back soon, girl.” He placed a chilled kiss to her muzzle before quickly making his way up the steps. The door was heavy and stiff with the cold, but once opened, warmth greeted him instantly. He slipped inside and hastily shut it once more, happily taking off his gloves and bringing down the hood of his cloak to take a better look around. It was eerily quiet now that the whistling wind had been banished by the heavy shutters.

"Moi! Is anyone here? Berwald?" Tino's voice echoed through the manor and he shivered. He rubbed his hands together and breathed into them before pressing them to his frozen ears, willing the heat to transfer.

"Anyone?"

There was the distinct noise of something scuttling behind him and Tino jumped, nervousness tightening his chest. But this manor was his best lead on Berwald's whereabouts. He wasn't about to leave because of some silly noise!

“Where's your sense of adventure, Tino.” He tried to encourage himself. With false bravado, he straightened his shoulders and went into the manor. The familiar pair of boots went unnoticed, tucked into the dark corner of the foyer.  
  
As Tino walked through the halls, he called out every now and again when he had built up enough courage, hoping for some sort of reply and receiving none. Every so often, a door would slowly creak open on its own, jolting the Finn's composure. Tino, having no other sense of where to go in the vast manor, would steady his frayed nerves and follow the invisible guide. Down he went, hoping to the Gods that he was being lead to Berwald.

Flames gently swayed in little nooks along the crumbling steps, guiding him downwards. The stone walls kept away all of the pleasant warmth from the upper floors and Tino tugged on his gloves once more as the chill soaked into his bones. In the flickering light of the torches, Tino made it to the floor below; he could barely make out wooden doors in the dim lighting. Iron bars barricaded a small window cut into each door...

They were cells. The colour drained from Tino's face.

Perkele!

The shadows thrown by the minimal fire light swayed and cast strange, horrifying shapes over the dungeon walls as Tino forced himself to go further into the room. He called out for his guardian again, his voice soft and shaky. The darkness felt thick and alive, as if it might rear up and crash over him like a tidal wave, swallowing him whole should he be too loud.

"Berwald?" He went to each cell, repeating his quiet plea.

At the very last door, a soft groan came back in response and Tino gasped. He stood on his toes, hands gripping the bars as he peered into the heavy darkness enveloping the prison. There was definitely someone in there! Through the iron bars of the wooden door he could see a moving lump on a cot. The door to the cell was locked, yet Tino tried to open it over and over again, desperately attempting to make out the features of the figure sprawled in the corner.

"Berwald? Berwald! Is that you? Who did this to you? Where's the key?"

Tino could hear the man moving about. Frantically, Tino banged his fists against the door.

"Please, answer me!"

When the older man finally came to the door, Tino could see that it really was Berwald. Thank the Gods that he had found him! But the suspended terror on the older man's face made the younger worry. Nothing scared Berwald. His guardian was fearless.

"What....what happened to you?" Cautiously reaching a hand up, Tino gently rubbed a patch of dirt from Berwald's face from between the bars; the sentiment seemed to snap Berwald out of his dream-like state. He grabbed the smaller hand in his own, turning it over and studying it for a moment as if questioning if Tino was really there.

“Berwald, it's me. I came to find you-” Tino's words were cut off as Berwald pushed his away suddenly.

"Tino, ya must leave! Now!"

The boy shook his head. "Not without you. Tell me what happened. Who did this to you?" Anger began to bubble up through his unease. His words were no longer frail and quiet with fear. Someone had had the gall to throw his beloved guardian in jail! Berwald was in trouble and...he had to man up. He had to save Berwald!

"There's a horrid beast here!" From behind askew glasses, Tino watched Berwald's eyes dart wildly around the dark basement. It made him oh so nervous to see Berwald in this state, but he had to be brave now more than ever.

Turning from the cell door, the Finn began to look around for signs of the offending 'beast' only to stand stock still as a large shadow passed over him. For all of the bravado he had accumulated a moment prior, he couldn't make himself turn around to face whatever was behind him. He wanted to curl up, but maybe if he didn't move, he wouldn't be noticed. His muscles were so tightly wound up, and he was ready to spring if the need arose. Tino imagined that this was much like a trapped, hunted animal felt like. The all to real realization that he was prey hit him hard.

Berwald was yelling again from somewhere to his left (For him to run? For whatever was casting that shadow to leave him alone?). Tino couldn't make out the words of his guardian as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He was, however, hyper aware of whatever was behind him.

"Well, what do we have here?" Tino jumped and bit his bottom lip to stop the scream that had bubbled up in his throat. Whatever was behind him spoke with a heavy Russian accent, yet the voice was childish, soft, and dangerously curious. Tino's blood ran cold with icy terror. Looking at his frantic guardian from the corner of his eye, Tino found some slight strength. He took a deep breath before closing his eyes and turning to face what Berwald had deftly named 'the beast'.

"Why did you lock Berwald up? You have no right to do that!!"

His voice shook as he spoke. Tino could hear a soft chuckle in front of him, a mocking little laugh. His conviction wavered but...but had to stand up to whomever was in front of him, for Berwald's sake! Slowly he opened his eyes, fearing the unknown.

In the dim lighting, Tino could begin make out the features of a large man, a very tall, broad, intimidating man... And were those horns on his head? The boy took a step back, and the beast took a step forward.

"Your Berwald-" The voice was way too calm. Tino took another step back towards the wall.

"tried to steal something-" And another. The beast continued to close the space between them.

"very precious from me."

Tino's back hit a cell door and he panicked. He was shaking terribly, staring directly into the beast's cold, violet eyes. The boy clenched his fists. "You have the wrong man! Berwald would never steal from anyone-"

"He tried to steal bottle of my vodka." The too cheerful voice interrupted smoothly. Tino's face flushed in shame and guilt, and he quickly looked down at the ground. A bottle of vodka. He had asked for one. So ...was it his fault that Berwald was locked up? If he had said no to a gift from his guardian, or if he had asked for something else-

"Then it's me who you should have locked up. I asked Berwald to bring me back a bottle of vodka. Let him go free!" The little Finn could hear his guardian yelling at him again through the haze of adrenaline. He looked up once more into the beast's eyes, trying to remain steadfast and strong even as his knees knocked together and the horned man began to laugh.

"Very well."

Everything seemed to happen all at once, and all so quickly that Tino's head spun. He found himself steadying his body against the stone floor with Berwald's voice ringing through the basement, pounding through his dizzied mind. He was in a different cell than his guardian, and he could hear the slam of another door before Berwald's cries got softer and further away. Tino could only hope that the beast had taken Berwald outside of the manor to let him free when the yelling stopped altogether. It was some time before the room stopped spinning and he was able to stand up to check the door of his small prison.

Locked. Of course.

Tino crawled onto his very own moth eaten cot in the corner, feeling oddly calm and detached as he curled against the damp walls. He began to contemplate Berwald's freedom (he hoped) and his own imprisonment, and kept the threatening tears at bay with thoughts of a daring escape. Tino wasn't sure how much time had passed before the soft pattering of footsteps alerted him to another's presence in the dungeon. He promptly curled in on himself tighter, hugging his arms with his white cloak pulled tight against him. He hoped that the soft white cloth would be able to shield him from the horror of his current situation. But the lock on the door still clicked open, the metal hinges creaked far too loudly with disuse as the door slowly swung inwards. Tino glanced up from under the comfortably heavy cloak. It was hard to make out details in the dark, but Tino could see that the silhouette was that of the beast.

"You do not have to stay in dungeon. There is room for you upstairs with warm fire."

Tino glared up at the figure defiantly, though he doubted his fiery look could be seen under such circumstances. He chose not to move from his spot and watched as the beast looked confused for a moment before shrugging and turning his back to cell's interior. "You may join me for dinner when you are ready." With that, the beast left once more, leaving the old, wooden door open.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

It was getting unbearably cold, even curled up under the thick, wool cloak. And on top of that, Tino's stomach began to grumble, betraying his will to not dine with the beast. He wouldn't eat with him, no matter what! But his fingers and toes were starting to numb, and his teeth began to chatter, and he finally pushed himself to sit up.

He didn't have to eat the dinner his captor provided, but he sure as heck wasn't going to freeze to death down here. With that thought of (minor) defiance lending him fortitude, Tino walked up the stone stairwell. Even as he ascended from the basement, the difference in temperature was startling. He couldn't help but feel a little grateful that he had even been given the option to not be confined to the damp dungeons.  
  
Though, why should he be grateful when he was being kept prisoner in the manor to begin with! Perkele!

He pouted and walked in a huff across the dark wooden floors of the manor, rubbing at his arms to get them working properly. The glowing light of a fire place was like a guiding lantern in the distance, and Tino thanked the Gods that it was made more visible and pronounced by the darkness that had fallen outside. The manor was far too big and too cold for someone so used to the small living space of a thatch roofed cottage on the edge of town.

Tino followed the light of the fireplace led to a cozy, unoccupied sitting room; there were couches and armchairs scattered around the room, a few small tables with little trinkets and glassware on their surfaces, and an old gramophone that sat in the corner, looking as if it hadn't had much use in ages. A small bowl of toffee candies caught his wandering eyes and the Finn quickly took the chance to grab a handful of the tiny sweets before he sat himself on the warmed hearth in front of the fire. Candy wasn't technically dinner, and he wasn't eating with the beast. So he could allow himself to eat these sweets without catering to the beast's whims. He told himself that the more of them he ate, the less the beast would have to eat for himself, and there was some small amount of satisfaction in that thought.

Small piles of candy wrappers began to form around him. The fireplace spoke of home and comfort. It crackled merrily and warmed the chill that had buried itself in his bones as he sucked on the Russian candies. As Tino's stomach settled its protestation, his eyelids grew heavy. That had been more than enough adventure for one afternoon. He was exhausted from the day's endeavours and his body told him that it would be lovely to sleep right where he was. His mind couldn't help but agree.  
  
He curled up under his cloak, and the comforting crackling lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations and Notes
> 
> Hirvenliha - Finnish - elk or deer meat, venison  
> Hevo - Finnish - Hevo is their horse's name, it comes from Hevonen (horse) in Finnish  
> Bra häst. Du är så stark. Bra Hevo. - Swedish - Good horse. You are so strong. Good Hevo.  
> да? (Da?) - Russian - Yes?  
> Perkele! - Finnish - A Finnish curse


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations and notes are at the end of the chapter~

When Tino awoke, he was surrounded by sunlit, plush blankets and goose down pillows. He felt like he was floating on a cloud. Tino couldn't help but lie there, soaking in the speckled warmth across his face with his eyes closed. It felt wonderful to just lie there and relax and...his stomach rumbled. He grimaced to himself, not having exactly eaten a proper meal the night before. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a while before the smell of something warm and sweet assaulted his senses. He sat up just as the bedroom door clicked shut. Tino stared at the door for a while longer, wondering if it had been the beast who had brought him food or if there were other living souls in the manor. Either way, it had been awfully nice of whomever it was to bring him a lovely, warm meal. With a soft sigh, he reached over to grab the bowl of porridge. He had been given homemade kasha and eggs, and it settled the once again present growling in his stomach. Maybe the beast wasn't so bad after all...

As if to further promote the potential goodness of the beast, Tino's fingers brushed across a note that had gone unnoticed until he placed his empty plate back down. Black ink swirled across the old paper in beautifully written words.

 

_/You may walk around manor._

_Grounds are large, and there is library with many books._

_You may join me in sitting room if you wish._

_You are forbidden from entering West wing of manor._

_Do not try to leave manor grounds./_

 

A library. Tino almost disregarded the passive threat at the bottom of the note in favour of the excitement that tingled through his fingertips. But still, he would have to ask the beast where the library was...unless he could find it on his own. The manor had looked big from the outside, and it was even more vast on the inside, and the Finn really didn't want to get lost because that would be disastrous and the beast might get mad at him. He shivered. He didn't want to invoke the wrath of the horned man.

.....

But there was a library. A library with many books. And it was somewhere in the manor! He hopped out of the bed with a renewed spring to his step and righted his clothing. He was going to make the best out of his new living situation, even if that meant living in the library itself! At the last second, as an after thought, he grabbed the empty tray before leaving the room. Even through the eagerness that he felt, Tino was wary as he left. The sunlit halls were easy enough to navigate and he peeked in through each door that he passed, looking for signs of the promised treasure room. But there hadn't been a single book in sight by the time he had made it through all the rooms on his way to the stairs. With a little disheartened sigh, he knew his fate was sealed. Tino quickly found his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, and out of habit he cleaned his own plates. He was also biding his time, procrastinating the fact that in order to reach the library he would have to find the beast. When the last of the dishes had been dried and placed in its rightful cupboard, Tino squared his shoulders and went to look for the lounge that he had fallen asleep in the night prior. The beast had said he'd be there. Tino crept through the main floor of the manor, turning a few corners as he followed the chill banishing sounds of the fireplace. He just thanked the gods that the lounge wasn't hard to find.

Just as the note had stated, the beast was there. He was sitting in one of the plush armchairs by the crackling fire, a bottle of vodka and a glass by his side. Hesitation gripped at Tino's chest and he stopped, standing frozen beneath the arched doorframe. He didn't have to bother the beast (who he was quickly remembering was quite terrifying).

_'I could still turn around and try and find it on my own. I am perfectly capable of finding the library by myself-'_

As Tino argued with himself internally, the beast straightened up in the armchair.

“Is there problem?” Tino jumped at the unexpected words and shook his head frantically before realizing that the beast couldn't see him from this angle. Tino wished that the floor would just open up and consume him.

"Moi." Tino greeted the beast nervously, stepping into the room so that they could see each other. There no greeting given in return. Voi paska...

"Anteeksi...I'm sorry to disturb you. There...there isn't really an issue." Tino wandered closer as he tried once more to start a conversation. He could feel himself shaking, his body betraying the utter anxiety he was feeling. But as long as he was kind and polite, the beast wouldn't have a reason to get angry. Right?

The Russian turned around once the shorter blond was only a few feet from the chair, and he threw back the remaining vodka in his glass before refilling it. He acknowledged Tino's words with a small nod.

Tino took this as a sign to keep talking. "I wanted to thank you.” The Russian just stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Tino went wide eyed and looked down at his entwined fingers, scrambling to clarify what he meant. “For the breakfast." The Finn fidgeted, unsure if he should even be talking to the beast. He reminded himself over and over again to be polite. "And for the bedroom. It was very comfortable." Tino met the beast's gaze for a moment before becoming oh so interested in his own hands once more. "I was wondering if you, or someone else, could possibly show me to the library. I love reading and would very much like to see what books you have." There was no response for a long while, and Tino shifted in his spot nervously, wishing to redact his words and simply leave the room all together. But when he looked up again, the beast seemed to be smiling beneath his scarf. A small blush rose to the smaller blond's cheeks.

"Or i-if you tell me where it is I'm sure I could find it. And then I won't bother you anymore." Tino stuttered out his words and stumbled back as the beast placed down the bottle of vodka and stood abruptly from the ornate chair.

"It is fine. Library is this way."

The short walk was quiet and Tino stayed a few feet behind the beast at all times, quietly observing the broad back and horns and the ever swaying scarf in front of him. The broad man stopped quite suddenly in front of a set of double doors and Tino almost bumped into him. The Russian didn't seem to pay any notice and he pushed the heavy wooden doors open.

More daylight flooded the hallway, and upon entering the library room Tino forgot why he had ever been nervous about asking for help in the first place. His face lit up at the sight of shelves upon shelves of books. The walls were covered from floor to high ceiling with a plethora of different sized and coloured spines. This was beyond his wildest dreams!

The beast watched Tino with a pleased smile, feeling his breath catch with the captivated excitement his captive was showing. As Tino turned to face him, the beast pulled his scarf up over his face further, hiding his expression.

"Hämmästyttävä-" Tino breathed out the word, smiling brightly at the Russian "This is incredible Mr. .." At the realization that he didn't know the beast's name, Tino blushed furiously in embarrassment and nervousness alike. They hadn't even had a full conversation yet, and he hadn't introduced himself either, and was the beast going to be mad at him for this because that had been kind of rude and-

"Braginski. Ivan Braginski."

Tino couldn't help but sigh in relief, thankful for the quick response bringing a halt to his mind's ramblings. "Thank you, Mr. Braginski."

A soft smile graced Tino's face once more and the beast gave a silent inclination of his head before leaving the Finn to explore the room to his heart's content.

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It was late into the night when Tino left the library. He hadn't needed to venture outside of the room except for small snacks and breaks during the daytime. The manor was as silent as ever, the only sound being the swaying music of an old gramophone far off down the hallway. In the soft flickering light of the candlestick that had been left for him, the darkened halls seemed to close in, oppressive to a point where Tino was finding it hard to concentrate on where he was going. At first he tried to follow the music, hoping that it would guide him back to the lounge. But the melody wound through the halls, convoluted and confusing and playing tricks on Tino's ears. It lead him into a part of the manor that he had not yet been through.

A grand staircase, different from the one that lead up to his room, rose up in front of him. There was a thick layer of dust and cobwebs decorating its once beautiful finish, and only a single track of footprints disturbed the settled filth up the centre of the stairs.

Curiosity clenched at Tino's chest, and he once again wondered if the beast was all alone in this manor. Slowly, Tino began his ascent. Small clouds of dust rose even with his carefully placed steps. He hadn't wanted to disturb the filth, feeling as if that single path was sacred; It felt precious, ritualistic. And something told Tino that he shouldn't be here disturbing it and interfering with whatever this was. But he pressed on, carefully traversing through the broken furniture that littered the narrow hallway that met him on the landing.

There was only a single doorway at the very end of the hall. A whisper of wind drew the Finn towards it, telling him to fight through the heaviness of the air. Glass crunched beneath his shoes, and fabric and splintered wood caught and snagged his clothing as if trying to hold him back. Tino took his time getting through the cluttered corridor; with each step he took and movement he made, he was extremely aware of anything that could trip, rip, scratch and cut at him.

Then suddenly, the door was right there in front of him.

His heart beat loudly in his ears as he reached for the handle, hesitating as he wrapped his fingers around the cool metal. When he finally brought himself to twist the knob, it turned easily, smooth and well oiled compared to the state of destruction around it. With a gentle push, it swung inwards to show a room that had once been quite lovely. It was now in a state of complete disarray, the beautiful velvet curtains shredded and the delicately carved wooden furniture shattered. Tino closed the door gently behind him as he walked in. He felt once more as if he shouldn't be there. The rage and torment that had torn apart this bedroom hung heavy in the air.

However, in the midst of the horrid shambles stood a petite white table with a perfectly polished, glass bell jar. The soft glow from beneath the glass called to him, just as something had urged him up the staircase. Tino couldn't help but walk further into the space, enraptured by such a bizarre sight. Contained within was a sunflower. It must have been the flower itself that emanated that warm, golden glow, and it was a curious contrast against the otherwise darkened room. Dulled gold petals that had withered and fallen off were strewn across the table's surface, resting beneath the seemingly floating flower. He had never seen anything like it before and he stood there in complete awe for some time. It couldn't be real. It was like something straight out of one of his books. A small hand reached out to lift the bell jar, just to see if his eyes were deceiving him. Such a beautifully surreal thing couldn't exist.

As he began to lift the lid, the door behind him slammed open, breaking the spell of the moment. Tino let the glass drop back over top of the sunflower with a jarring clatter, and he spun around to be greeted with an angered beast only feet from him. The temperature of the room dropped as Tino stared into furious purple eyes.

“What are you doing here? I told you to stay away from West wing! I give you books to make you happy and you come here anyway!”

The scarf around Ivan's neck appeared to shiver, as if angered just as its owner was.

Apologies and excuses were quick to flow from Tino's mouth. He hardly knew what he was saying, a jumble of words that his mind had rapidly supplied to his tongue in an effort for self preservation. He had known that he shouldn't have come up here, and yet his curiosity had gotten the better of him. When it seemed as though his mind had finally stopped to actually think about the situation at hand, Tino bolted past the beast, his clothes tearing as he darted through the obstacles that he had so carefully climbed through before. It was only when he reached the bottom of the steps that Tino felt the full force of the guilt and fear well up in his chest. Tears threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. He kept them at bay until he was safely locked away in his room and wrapped in the thick comforter of his bed.

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Tino didn't leave his room for days. The fact that he was now affectionately referring to it as his room, even if only to himself, worried him greatly. He longed for the lovingly stocked shelves of books but...he was terrified. Tino recalled the utter rage that had rolled off of Ivan in cold waves, the hulking man's unnatural horns and sharp fangs amplified tenfold by his fury. The longer that Tino remained locked away in his room, the more he reflected on the beast. There had been something beneath that anger, a layer of different emotion. It was plain to see that Ivan was lonely, a little socially awkward and that he meant Tino no real harm. But Tino had wronged him, betrayed him without meaning too.

Betrayal...That's what he had seen in those violet eyes beneath the anger.

Tino groaned and hid himself beneath the blankets. Why did he feel so horrible? It's not like he had done it on purpose! It's not his fault that the manor was huge and convoluted!

But the beast- Ivan had given him one of the finest bedrooms in the manor and had given him access to the library and wasn't mean, just maybe a little out of tune with how to interact with another person. And he had gone and made him mad. Tino assumed that it was also Ivan who had been leaving food outside of his room each day that he did not venture out. So maybe Ivan wasn't mad anymore....and maybe it was okay to go back to the library.

The dresser doors creaked open as Tino got up with the intent to dress himself, and the boy stuttered and stilled. Dressers didn't just open on their own. Ready to spring at some sort of monster, Tino tiptoed forward and peered inside the wardrobe. There were no monsters. But there were a few outfits. They looked brand new, and they also suspiciously looked like they might fit him. It really shouldn't faze him at this point that there was a magical wardrobe in this manor as well. At least he wouldn't have to fight some sort of wardrobe beast. Tino sighed and took one of the more comfortable, less flashy looking outfits and dressed himself. His own clothes were torn and dirty beyond salvaging, and they lay in a bundle to the right of the fireplace. Though as he had thought, these magical clothes fit him perfectly. Tino left his room feeling somewhat refreshed.

With this new found strength, Tino would sneak out of his bedroom a little more each day, bringing books back from the library until he had piles of books on each surface and stacked on his floor. He would pass Ivan in the hallways sometimes, just brief little encounters and quick pleasantries. Each time they passed one another, they would speak a little more than their previous meeting. Eventually their fleeting passings turned into short strolls through the manor or out into the grounds. Sometimes they would wind up in the lounge, the two of them listening to the gramophone well into the evening. With all the time that Tino began to spend with the beast, he would often catch the Russian staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

He wanted desperately to help Ivan, as it was in his nature to be kind to those who needed it. Tino took the time to learn more about the Russian, telling Ivan about himself in return. He did, however, refrain from asking questions surrounding the sunflower, the beast's appearance, and the emptiness and seemingly magical properties of the manor, not wanting to break the careful friendship that they had built up.

Within a few weeks, Tino had stopped questioning how their were always grand feasts prepared and on the table on time, and how there were always fresh clothes for him each morning. It just became a part of his life.

Sometimes they would take walks on the snowy grounds, Tino bundled up in his cloak and gloves as Ivan would point out little things here and there about the architecture of the manor, or about the family of deer that lived just on the outskirts of the property. Tino would watch in fascination as Ivan's scarf would sway around a little too much in the light winter breeze and he'd tug on it curiously whenever it came to land on his arm or shoulder.

Other times Ivan would lock himself in his study or the west wing of the manor, and Tino would spend those times alone in the vast library, reading the books that he had never heard of before or sometimes revisiting the pile of favourites that had accumulated by the grand bay window. But even when his mind was far away under the crystal blue ocean, or across the globe in some desert oasis, it would always wander back to the present and Tino would wonder what the beast was doing.

No matter what their day time activities, dining together at night became habit.

That evening was no exception.

Typically Tino and Ivan would sit at opposing ends of the long wooden table, filled to the brim with homely cooking. But for some reason, the short distance had begun to feel like a huge chasm lately. Without a word of explanation, Tino stood from his seat, a shy smile on his face as he grabbed his plate. He walked with purpose in his step and stopped to take the spot to Ivan's right. The beast watched the small Finn move about with a questioning look, and no small amount of shock when Tino sat at his side. A faint blush crawled up Ivan's face and Tino chuckled lightly, watching with amusement as the beast's face turned more red.

"This is so much better, isn't it? I couldn't see you over the ham.”

Satisfied with the reaction that he had gotten from Ivan, Tino began to eat once more, sporting his own smile and a blush that rivalled that of the beast's. Dinner was finished in warm silence, and the pair moved to the lounge.

What Tino loved more than anything else was time that they spent together in the lounge.

They would spend their evenings talking or reading a book by the fireplace and drinking the same vodka that had landed Tino in this mess in the first place. Often times, their drinking would turn competitive and they'd go through 2 or 3 bottles of vodka in an evening. Tino would always put up a good fight, but would end up passed out on the couch or against the beast's shoulder with Ivan out drinking him once again.

On occasion, if the mood was right, their drinking would turn into existential conversations. This meant that Tino would talk and Ivan would, on principle, add in a few words of his own here and there.

"You. Are nice. I like you because you're nice. I mean. Sometimes you're a little scary. And your horns and fangs are a little worrisome. But you're just lonely and. Is that why you're nice to me?” The firelight refracted through the cut crystal decanter that they had taken to drinking out of that evening. Ivan swirled his drink around, a smug smile upon his lips.

“I am not nice to you-”

“Shut up. Yes you are. You should show me your smile more often instead of hiding it behind your scarf. Your scarf is scary though. Is it alive? Because it seems like it is- Ah, kiitos!"

Ivan passed another glass to Tino, full to the brim with vodka. He watched with amusement as the smaller blond threw back the shot and curled up further against his side and continued to talk. He liked how Tino fit so perfectly against him, and how the vodka made the smaller blond cuddle closer.

"You should leave your manor sometime. The woods are really beautiful and you should come see my town because it's gorgeous and maybe Berwald will like you after I explain everything. And do you like dogs? I can't remember if you do. Hanatamago would probably be scared of you at first, but then she would like you. Kind of like me!"

When Tino looked up at the face of the silent man, he could see that Ivan was deep in thought, as if he were actually considering the alcohol laced words. As he contemplated Tino's drunken ramblings, the Russian unthinkingly wrapped his scarf around the smaller blond, and Tino could feel the fabric move on its own to draw him closer against Ivan. A small amount of hope blossomed in his chest, warm with the idea of going back home with Ivan and living together with Berwald and Hanatamago.

"That would be so nice." Tino murmured the words aloud despite the full fantasy having been in his head. A soft "да." from Ivan had him wondering if the beast had been picturing the same thing.

Tino pressed his cheek to the beast, smiling against Ivan's arm. He tucked his feet underneath himself and let the heat from the Russian and fireplace alike soak into him.

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Tino's heart continued to grow more fond of the beast the more time that they spent together. A soft brush of hands here and there would make his heart flutter. Sitting by the fireplace at night in each others company began to feel like home. The shy glances of the Russian were no longer intimidating, but thrilled him instead. It was all very confusing, and wonderful and warm, and Tino simply couldn't fathom why he was suddenly so eager to spend every waking moment by Ivan's side.

He quickly came to realize that with these unfamiliar new feelings came worry. Lots and lots of worry. The peculiar, glowing sunflower frequented his thoughts, and he couldn't help but feel dread in the pit of his stomach when he thought of the wilted petals beneath it. He wondered how many more had fallen. He wondered what that meant for Ivan.

They continued on in the lovely little routine that they had created, comfortable and happy to do whatever and go wherever the other wanted.

His heart could have only been more content if, every so often, it didn't pang painfully with thoughts of Berwald and Hanatamago and the little cottage that he had spent all of his life in. He missed them dearly, and during their downtime one evening he mentioned as much to Ivan. Setting down his book Tino cleared his throat nervously, catching the beast's attention.

“Ivan, you know I love being here with you, and I enjoy your company very much. I don't mean to be rude or ungrateful after all you've given me. But...is there anyway I could see Berwald. I just want to make sure that he's alright. I'm just worried about him and... Please, Ivan, if I could just see him once.”

The natural smile on Ivan's face faltered for a brief moment before he hid his mouth behind his scarf. The taller man remained silent, contemplating the request before standing up and leaving the sitting room without a word. Tino feared that he may have crossed a line and he stayed seated, worrying at his lower lip. He hoped that he had upset Ivan... He fiddled with his thumbs, trying to think of something to say to make things up to the beast when he returned. He didn't want Ivan angry with him, and he didn't want Ivan thinking that he didn't like him. Because he did like him. A lot. The door opened and Tino stood to face the beast, mouth open to begin apologizing. His words stuck in his throat; worry turned to curiosity as he was presented with a small mirror.

“Think of who you wish to see, and mirror will show you.” Ivan didn't sound mad. At least Tino didn't think he did. He could hear the faintest amount of sadness and it made his heart ache to think that he had caused it.

Slowly, Tino took the mirror from Ivan's hands, brushing his fingers against the beast's palm.

“Thank you Ivan.” With a grateful smile, the boy peered into it. The blurry opalescent surface swirled as Tino thought hard about the now blurry memories of his guardian. After a few moments an image of Berwald came into focus through the milky surface of the mirror, and Tino watched for a time as Berwald sat and carved a beautiful wooden chair. It looked to be a perfectly normal day in their household, and Tino could almost smell the sawdust that always accumulated in the small workspace. He smiled fondly and touched his fingers to where Berwald's face had appeared. His guardian seemed to be doing well, and Tino felt happiness and sadness swell up in his heart simultaneously.

Ivan sat once more upon seeing his little Finn smile. He felt a certain contentment at the joy that the younger man displayed, even though sadness still gripped at his own heart. He just wanted Tino to be happy. Would Tino never be happy here?

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Days passed and the beast noticed that Tino's happiness with the mirror was fading rapidly and the younger blond's smile was less frequently seen. Ivan found Tino in the library days later, crying over the same mirror with which he had at first been so overjoyed. Ivan panicked, unsure of why his gift had suddenly made his Tino so very upset.

“What is matter?” Ivan asked with concern, kneeling next to the Finn. He placed a gentle hand on Tino's shoulder, wishing to pull him closer.

“I think that Berwald is sick. Very sick” Tino was trying to wipe away the tears streaking down his cheeks, but more kept falling and taking their place. He turned the mirror towards Ivan, showing him how Berwald lay in bed, pallor and shivering. “I-I have to see him. Please, just until he gets better! I need to make sure that he's okay! Please Ivan.”

Ivan's hand tensed on Tino's shoulder before he stood abruptly, trying to hide his displeased expression beneath his scarf. How could Tino do this to him? How could he leave him, after all he had given to him! Why couldn't Tino be happy with what Ivan had!

“НеT. I told you that you are not allowed to leave manor. This is your home. You live with me now.” Ivan's voice shook with the rage that he was holding back. He quickly left the library, allowing the doors to slam shut behind him. Tino began to cry even harder.

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Ivan returned to the library many hours later after much inner turmoil. The Finn was in much the same state as he had been when the Russian had left him; Tino was still seated on the floor of the library, surrounded by scattered books as he clutched the mirror tightly and watched his suffering guardian with bated breath. His knuckles were pale from gripping the mirror and his face was just as ashen from worry. Tino only looked up for a moment as the creaking doors opened, catching sight of the beast as he entered the room before turning his attention straight back to the mirror. Ivan began to speak softly with something akin to defeat in his words.

"Seven days. I will give you seven days to go to your guardian, but you must return at once. Promise me that you will return." Tino's spirits quickly lifted, and he stood at once, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Kyllä! Yes! I promise to return in seven days!" Overcome with gratefulness, Tino threw his arms around Ivan in a tight hug, pecking the much taller man on the cheek before excusing himself and running off to get ready, the mirror still tight in his grasp.

Ivan placed his fingers against the burning spot on his cheek where Tino had kissed him. He hoped beyond anything he had ever hoped for that Tino would return to him.

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With instructions to get back to the main road, Tino fastened his cloak over his shoulders and slipped on his mitts to keep out the spring chill.

"Kiitos, Ivan."

He threw one final smile to the man standing behind him, the man who had given him so much.

"Minä olen puuttuu sinulle. Aion nähdä pian."

I miss you already. I'll be back soon.

Tino ran out of the large oak doors, those cold, violet eyes following the little blond as he disappeared into the woods. A deep, aching loneliness settled in his chest, something that had not been present since before Tino burst into his life. He hid his emotion behind his scarf and closed the doors to the manor, sealing himself from the outside world until his little Tino returned to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations and Notes
> 
> Moi. - Finnish - Hello.  
> Voi paska... - Finnish - Oh shit...  
> Anteeksi...- Finnish - Excuse me...  
> Hämmästyttävä - Finnish - Amazing  
> НеT. (Nyet.) - Russian - No.  
> Kyllä! - Finnish - Yes!  
> Kiitos, Ivan. - Finnish - Thank you, Ivan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations and notes are at the end of the chapter~

Berwald sat in his bed with blankets layered atop his legs, a bowl of soup cradled in his shivering hands. It had been made by the baker's wife in town. Nice lady. It was good soup, but he had no appetite for it. It wasn't the same as Tino used to make it. He glanced over to the book that he kept on his bed side table. Berwald had found it open and abandoned on the window bench. It was Tino's favourite, and no doubt the boy had left it in a hurry.

The blue eyed man had blamed everyone and everything for his misfortunes, from the Gods to Hevo to himself. Poor Tino was trapped in the beast's manor, or worse. And the beast had told him that if he should attempt to come back for his charge, Tino would be killed. Maybe he had already been killed. Berwald coughed and some of the soup spilled on the upper most quilt. Hanatamago whined from beside him, curled up under the man's arm. Berwald knew that she missed Tino too.

What was he to do though?

Groaning, the man placed the untouched soup on the small table to his right and slid further under the covers. The doctor of their little village couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, and it was proving to be worse than the cold that he had initially thought it to be. He felt weak, his head was fuzzy, his ears wouldn't stop ringing and his limbs were heavy as stones. And no amount of bed rest was making him better.

Seeing Tino would make him feel better. But that was never going to happen. His chest tightened at the thought, and his coughing fit started anew. He blew out the candlestick on his bedside table once he was able to catch his breath, eager to try and get some sleep.

Just as his eyes began to close there was knocking at the door, and it pounded through his head unpleasantly. Hanatamago jumped up, yelping and yapping and running to the entrance to welcome whomever it was. It was probably just the baker's wife again, coming to check on him. She had just been there the previous evening, but Berwald knew she worried too much. It was kind if nice to have someone to fuss over him.

The sickly man struggled to get up to greet the visitor, and he blindly reached out to find his glasses that were lying somewhere beside him. He had just started to get comfortable too. Oh well. The blanket trailed behind him, a cocoon to keep in the warmth that he had finally accumulated. Another loud series of knocks made him groan.

"Comin'." He was sure that his voice hadn't carried past the door. He'd be there soon enough. Yet before he could walk another foot, the front door slammed open. Well, that was rude. People were so impatient these days. Berwald frowned and turned the corner.

The sight before him made him stop in his tracks. Berwald allowed the blanket to fall from his shoulders.

His fever must have spiked, that was the only explanation. This was all some vivid dream or hallucination, because there was a familiar mop of blond hair on the small figure curled around Hanatamago. The soft voice coming from the little blond sounded as if the person was crying into the dog's fluffy white fur.

Berwald hardly felt the hot tears that dripped down his own face, and they rolled off his chin.

"Tino?"

The small blond's head whipped around as the hesitant voice called his name. Yup, Berwald had known it. Tino was crying too. The older man couldn't help but smile through his own tears. He felt his strength returning to him, and suddenly the boy was in his arms. He never wanted to let go again.

That night was spent on their small couch by their stone fireplace, and Tino recounted all of what had happened to him. Berwald asked very little, and hid well his surprise and dread as Tino spoke fondly of the beast. When Tino finally finished his tale by telling his guardian that he would return to the manor in a week (as he had promised Ivan), Berwald sent him to bed, stating that he must be exhausted from such a long trip home in as few words as possible.

Berwald spent the remainder of the night lying in his own bed thinking, unable to sleep.

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Tino and Berwald fell back into their routine easily. It had taken a few days for the boy to nurse his guardian back to complete health. Once he had, it was back to helping Berwald in the workshop, the familiarity of sanding and the constant comforting scent of wood shavings surrounding him. It was home.

During his downtime, Tino would run to the bookstore to fetch books he had read a million times before. His chest ached every time he entered the small, dusty shop. It's tiny, cramped interior reminded him of the vastness of the library that had been gifted to him, hours upon hours spent pouring over books that he had never even heard of. He found himself putting down the borrowed novels from the village store, bored of the monotonous rehashing of stories. It was far more pleasant to stare out the window into the forest instead, imagining the path back to the manor with perfect clarity. Closing his eyes, he could picture Ivan clearly, waiting at the front door for him, all broad shoulders and horns and piercing violet eyes. Tino couldn't help the smile that came to his face, though when he opened his eyes and the vision vanished, so did his momentary elation.

Having Hanatamago curl up against his chest at night was something he had missed dearly. But even that made Tino think back to nights spent curled up against Ivan's side in their sitting room, after a day spent doing whatever they pleased. He longed for the swaying music of the gramophone and the dedicated nature of their evenings in the lounge.

The mirror that he kept by his bed side was a constant reminder of the manor shrouded by the deep woods, and the lonely beast that he had left behind.

A week passed by quickly and it surprised Tino just how much he wanted to return to the manor, how much he had missed Ivan while he had been tending to Berwald. Even though he was more than ready to see Ivan again, Tino could feel his heart being torn between the village and people he had grown up around, and the manor (and its occupant) that he had come to adore. The few items that he was taking back with him were packed by the door, the promise of returning to visit upon his lips. Tino felt a certain amount of excitement and relief at the idea of returning to Ivan's side.

Berwald, however, was not happy with how fast the week had gone by. Seeing Tino's possessions by the front door made him feel cold with familiar dread. He didn't want to let Tino go again. He wouldn't let him go back to that horrid manor and terrible beast who had kept him captive for so long. The brightness that Tino had brought back to their little cottage and his life within that short week was testimony to the fact that he belonged here. The small Finn belonged with Berwald and Hanatamago.

Berwald begged him to stay just one day longer “T' help with that chair I've been workin' on.”.

How could Tino say no.

Just one more day couldn't hurt.

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Ivan sat on his chair, knee bouncing up and down with energetic anticipation. Today was the day that Tino came back! His dear little Tino. Then they could drink and talk and dine together and maybe he would be able to finally return the departing kiss that Tino had given him.  
  
As sad as he had felt when watching his Tino leave, Tino had promised that he'd be back today. And these newfound feelings of excitement and longing were strangely thrilling. He pushed himself up from the ornate fabric, standing and pacing the lounge. All the curtains around the manor had been pulled back, and bright sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the manor's interior. Ivan hadn't felt so energetic and light hearted for a long, long time. He had put on his best clothes and he had even trimmed his hair and...oh, he was just so happy that Tino was coming back!  
  
But... Блядь! He hadn't given Tino a specific time to be back by, and it was already mid afternoon. And what if his little blond didn't come back until it was pitch black outside. Ivan wouldn't be able to sleep until he came back. The beast chewed at one of his fingernails with nervousness that had temporarily overcome his giddiness.  
  
But, Tino would be back, he reasoned with himself and smiled once more.  
  
Ivan waited in the lounge, their favourite room, until the sun went down. He ate a small amount of the feast that had been prepared and then made his way back to sit in front of the fireplace in his chair. He waited up until the old gramophone and crackling fireplace made his eyelids heavy with sleep.

When he awoke the next morning Tino had still not returned.

Maybe he had just gotten the dates mixed up! Yes, that was it!

Ivan waited three more days for his beloved Finn to return to him before he simply gave up. He closed up all the curtains, locked the doors, and sealed his heart once more. He was a beast, a monster. And no one would ever love him.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Just one more day really couldn't hurt. It couldn't!

Tino told himself the same thing each and every day that his guardian asked for one more, giving any excuse he could to keep his charge by his side.

“Mrs. Jokinen needs help in her garden t'day. She said she'll give us some soup f'r dinner.”

The boy couldn't say no. The entire time that he was plucking weeds and unwanted saplings, Tino couldn't help but wonder how the grounds of the manor were faring with the warming weather. Would the trees be starting to bloom? Maybe the fountains were turned on once it got warm enough! He could picture the family of deer wandering into the grounds and drinking from the water features. Maybe he and Ivan could feed them.

The next day it was “I need some help fixing th' Eskola's staircase in town. It's a big job.”. Which ended up taking two days to finish. But Tino figured he could use the knowledge to fix up the stairs to the West wing when he got back.

Tino didn't want to leave his home, but the manor had become just as much a home to him in the short amount of time that he had spent there. Despite Berwald's best attempts at trying to keep Tino's spirit's up, it was clear that the boy felt the guilt of his promise weigh down upon him more with each passing day.

The mirror lay tucked in his bags that remained by the door, ready to leave when Tino was. It lay there forgotten, waiting for Tino.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Flowers began to bloom in abundance as the cool spring rains and warming sun nurtured both the carefully tended gardens and the abundantly wild flora around the village. Tino would pass through a plethora of beautiful flowers each day that he went back and forth to and from the village to run the constant stream of errands being given to him. Each day, more flowers bloomed and grew, and each day they looked more beautiful than the last. Those flowers, so full of life and colour, made Tino happy, and he would pluck a variety of wildflowers each day to keep in little jars and jugs in every room of their small house. By his bed though, he kept only a single golden sunflower.

While the other flowers had to be replaced every few days, Tino's sunflower remained strong, its head lifted and its colour brilliant. He would wake up and fall asleep with the precious flower in his sights, cherishing its beauty until he could make himself return to Ivan.

The morning that he woke up to see his sunflower wilted, its petals scattered across his night table, Tino knew that something was terribly wrong. Dread settled in his gut as he threw back his quilt and bolted to the front door. The mirror was in his bag. He hadn't used it since he arrived here, and he had packed it so long ago with the intent of leaving, of keeping his promise to Ivan. He gripped the cool metal, and there by his front door he concentrated on the milky swirls upon the mirror's surface, thinking of the dead sunflower, thinking of Ivan.

Tino almost dropped the mirror as the surface cleared to reveal Ivan. It frightened him how different his beast looked. Tired, worn thin, his beautiful platinum hair bleak and limp. Ivan looked like he was in pain, and Tino could see that he was crouched over on the floor with sunflower petals scattered around him. Had he caused Ivan to hurt this much? Of course he had. He hadn't kept his promise! He was a damn fool and-

And...he had done this to his beast.

He had to get back to Ivan. Right now.

Berwald had told Tino that he would be in town this morning, but Tino couldn't wait around or take a detour. Tino scribbled a quick, slightly hysterical note and tacked it to the wall in front of the door. Berwald would understand. He had to. He didn't have a choice.

  
Tino ran, the mirror clutched in his hands. He ran out the door in his sleeping tunic, only taking the time to put on his shoes and forgetting his bags in his haste. He ran to Hevo because he knew, even in his state of distress, that she was faster than he would ever be on foot. Tino clambered on to the mare and urged her "Faster, faster!", even though he could tell that she couldn't push herself more than she already was. And when Hevo finally stopped inside of those glorious black gates, Tino all but jumped off of her and ran to the manor doors. He banged on the heavy wood once he realized they were locked. There was no response. Nothing.

He was feeling all to desperate and terrified of the implications behind the locked doors. And desperate times called for desperate measures. The windows on either side of the doors were just large enough for him to fit through. Tino picked up a fair sized rock from one of the front garden beds and tossed it with all of his might. The glass shattered and he continued to break the hole until it was large enough for him to shimmy inside the manor. The heavy black curtains that had been drawn over the windows were torn, casting highly contrasting spots of light in the otherwise pitch black halls. Furniture had been turned over and broken. There was no merry crackling of the fireplace in the distance. The manor gave off almost the same feeling as the bedroom in the West wing. Tino felt sick. He couldn't focus on the destruction around him though when he needed to find Ivan.

The last place that the mirror had shown Ivan to be was by the bewitched sunflower. The West wing of the manor. His mind recalled the path with hazy accuracy. Through the winding halls he rushed, his legs screaming at him from the hours of non stop riding. But Tino pushed himself to continue running through the dusk lit hallways until he had reached that dusty, decrepit staircase.  
  
Throwing abandon to the wind, he tore up the neglected stairs, paying little attention to the furniture that grabbed and ripped at his clothes and skin. It was as if the mess of obstacles that lined the hall were mocking him, teasing him as they slowed him down. His goal was so close at hand. Ivan was right there, right behind that door.  
  
Tino clambered over a pile of shredded, wooden floor boards, feeling as each splinter licked his skin. Choking back a sob, he tore through the detritus and threw his shoulder against the door.  
  
The soft glimmer of fading sunlight streamed in through the balcony windows, illuminating the room with a sickly serene finality.  
  
The beast lay on the floor next to the white pedestal, looking terribly small for someone so powerful and large. It scared Tino to no end and he ran to Ivan's side, sliding to his knees.  
  
"Ivan, Ivan..." Those beautifully cold eyes were closed, and the sunflower that had once glowed vibrantly behind its glass cage was in the beast's hands. It now barely shimmered with the golden luminescence it had once had. Tino brushed a soft, trembling hand to Ivan's forehead and brushed back soft platinum hair.  
  
"Please don't leave me Ivan. I'm sorry I stayed away for so long. Berwald needed me. I'm so sorry. Please don't die." His words were choked by tears, sobs wracking his chest as he felt at Ivan's neck for his pulse point. It was terribly faint, just like the flower's glow.  
  
"What do I need to do to make this better? Just tell me what I need to do Ivan. Please. Talk to me." He yearned to hear that too cheerful voice telling him that this was all just a joke, just a cruel prank because Tino hadn't kept his promise. But there was no response whatsoever.  
  
"Please Ivan..." Tino gripped broad shoulders shaking the beast gently. But Ivan remained still, pale like the white marble of the pedestal. Tino felt large tears roll down his cheeks, his lips trembling with the effort of withheld cries. They splashed on to the beautifully torn clothing that Ivan wore, and he watched as they soaked in, leaving dark spots in their place.  
  
Of all the regrets he had ever had, this was the one that tore at his heart and he choked on the pain. He had never told Ivan how he felt before he left. Though maybe it was only after he had been away from the manor that he had come to realize it. Somewhere along the line, he had fallen in love. He smiled sadly at the revelation.  
  
"You can't leave me, Ivan. Rakastan sinua."

_I love you._

Tino whispered the words softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of cold lips. He dragged his fingers along Ivan's cheek, stroking softly, pressing his lips to the beast's face over and over again in silent prayer. He wished for the warmth to return, accompanied by that shy blush and smile that Ivan liked to wear.

But here he was, too late to help Ivan, too late for his sincere feelings to reach his beloved beast. Tino broke down once more, leaning his forehead to Ivan's chest, his hands curled tightly into torn fabric as ugly sobs escaped his lips.

Something warm and tingling touched against Tino's cheek as he continued to cry and he shot up from where he had been hunched over Ivan's body. Ivan's now glowing body. Tino shuffled back rapidly as the sunflower in Ivan's hands dissolved into golden dust, and the small blond watched in fascination and hope as whatever magical force was at play lifted Ivan's body a few feet from the ground. The horns that had grown from the man's head vanished in much the same way as the sunflower had, and the golden dust floated down upon Tino. All the tears in Ivan's clothes seemed to be mended by the soft glow around him, and his scarf looked brand new. The glow spread outwards to all parts of the bedroom, and what Tino assumed to be the rest of the manor as well. It fixed and cured as it went. When the magic had finally run its course, it gently lowered Ivan back to the ground.

Tino was at his side again in an instant, all wide puffy eyes and hopeful, bated breath. “Ivan?”

The man groaned, his eyes fluttering open in response and Tino threw himself against Ivan, more tears flowing down his face. He felt arms wrap tightly around his middle, pulling him closer as warmth enveloped him.

“You came back.” Ivan's voice was laced with confusion and fatigue and Tino just laughed through his gurgling tears.

“Of course I came back.” Tino tilted his head down and caught Ivan's lips with his own. Ivan pulled back to catch his breath after a few moments of stilled shock, and smoothed his thumb across Tino's mouth. Ivan smiled brightly at his little lover, having no need to hide behind his scarf any longer. He dragged Tino's face back down to his and kissed him once again.

And they lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations and Notes
> 
> Блядь! (B'lyat'!) - Russian - Fuck!

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATIONS AND NOTES
> 
> Hirvenliha - Finnish - Venison, deer or elk meat.  
> Hevo. - Finnish - It's the name of their horse. But it literally translates to 'horse'. Ya.  
> Bra häst. Du är så stark. Bra Hevo. - Swedish - Good horse. You are so strong. Good Hevo.  
> да? (Da?) - Russian - yes? (or in this case 'don't you agree?')  
> Moi! - Finnish - Hello!  
> Perkele! - Finnish - Curse word that basically translates to "The Devil!" and is the Finnish equivalent to "Fuck!"  
> Voi paska... - Finnish - Oh shit...  
> Anteeksi... - Finnish - Excuse me...  
> Hämmästyttävä. - Finnish - Amazing.  
> Ah, kiitos! - Finnish - Ah, thank you!  
> НеT. (Nyet.) - Russian - No.  
> Kyllä! - Finnish - Yes!  
> Kiitos, Ivan! - Finnish - Thank you, Ivan!  
> Блядь! (B'lyad'!) - Russian - Fuck!


End file.
